


Haunting

by genevievedarcygranger



Series: Hotch x Reader / Hotch x You [12]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Begging, Big Spoon Reader, Bisexual Aaron Hotchner, Bisexual Male Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Come Eating, Comfort Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Day 10 Comfort Sex, Day 10 Kinktober, Day 10 Kinktober 2020, Day 10 Kinktober 2020 Comfort Sex, Day 10 Kinktober Comfort Sex, Day Ten Comfort Sex, Day Ten Kinktober, Day Ten Kinktober 2020, Day Ten Kinktober 2020 Comfort Sex, Day Ten Kinktober Comfort Sex, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Little Spoon Aaron Hotchner, M/M, One Shot, POV Second Person, Prompt: Comfort Sex, Reader-Insert, Romance, Short One Shot, Smut, Song Lyrics, Song: Haunting (Halsey), Spooning, Sub Aaron Hotchner, Teasing, bisexual reader, dom reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:53:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26925409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevievedarcygranger/pseuds/genevievedarcygranger
Summary: After a heavy case, Hotch comes to you to ease the pain.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Reader, Aaron Hotchner/You
Series: Hotch x Reader / Hotch x You [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862236
Kudos: 60





	Haunting

_"'Cause I've done some things that I can't speak_

_And I tried to wash you away, but you just won't leave_

_So won't you take a breath and dive in deep?_

_'Cause I came here so you'd come for me,"_

\- "Haunting," _Halsey_

* * *

You were pulled from your deep sleep by the sound of your automatic lock flipping open with a loud, mechanical whir. Dropping your head back on the pillow, you let your eyes adjust to the darkness as you waited for Hotch to inevitably climb into bed with you. He didn't like to message you late at night in case you were asleep, mostly because he didn't want to worry you unnecessarily. He was a silly man for thinking that you wouldn't worry anymore.

Sure enough, Hotch crept in your room and managed to strip down and climb into bed without stubbing his toe on anything. This ease, of course, only came with many nights of following the same process. You'd been dating for over a year now, yet he insisted that Jessica keep Jack and he'd neglected to offer you the chance to move-in. You tried to not let it bother you.

Once Hotch was settled behind you in the bed, you slowly turned over so as to not startle him. "I'm sorry for waking you," Hotch whispered in the dark, but the darkness only served to amplify his voice.

"It's fine, baby. I was asleep for a while before you showed up and there'll be plenty of time to sleep afterwards." Still a little blind, you reached your hand out and found his face by touch. At first, he flinched away from your hand, but then he quickly recovered and pressed his cheek into your palm instead of the pillow. His lips pressed into your skin. "Are you tired, Aaron? Do you want to go to sleep or do you want to talk about it?"

It was quiet for so long that you wondered if Hotch really fell asleep that quickly. So, when he spoke, it was your turn to jump in surprise. "I…I don't know if I can sleep," he admitted haltingly.

"Is that why you came here?" Your hand smoothed the hair over his ears unnecessarily, just savoring the touch of him safely ensconced in your bed. "You don't want to be alone?"

"I don't want to be alone," Hotch repeated, grateful for you voicing his thoughts for him. Over time, he has learned to open up more, but he still found it difficult considering how much of a wedge work was before in his marriage with Haley. He also was well aware that his work troubles were considerably different from any frame of reference you might have. Hotch knew that was supposed to be a good thing, so he tried to not let that bother him.

"What do you want to tell me, Aaron?" You wiggled closer to him in the bed until you could feel his breath, his breathing thankfully slow and steady. He had neglected to brush his teeth, but you decided to just nag him about that in the morning. "You know you can tell me anything.

Hotch sighed. His hand came up and covered the yours, the one you had cradling his jaw. "You know how the cases about children are the hardest?" He waited for you to respond, and you nodded in the dark. He sensed your movement and continued, "This time our unsub was a child. A little girl. She was seven." He pulled your hand down from his face so he could hold it in his own.

"She's around Jack's age," you pointed out, now understanding what Hotch was struggling with. "Why did she do it?" You usually avoided asking what they have done since it was usually something heinous anyway. If it was that bad, sometimes Hotch wouldn't tell you even if you outright asked.

"She was being bullied… some older kids on her bus." Hotch choked up before he could give anymore details. "I don't wanna – I don't wanna talk about it anymore," he said, sounding very much like his son.

"Shh, shh, we don't have to talk about it." You used the hand that was holding Hotch's to brush away some of the tears that had spilled over his cheekbones. The grip he had on your hand was so tight he could've crushed bone, but you know he didn't mean it. His emotions were overwhelming him as he sobbed into the pillow.

This was a familiar scene to you, so you waited. You wished you could do more than just hold his hand and hum a lullaby, but there was very little you could do. As Hotch's sobs died off into hiccups, he finally let go of your hand and rolled over to face the other way. "I'm sorry," he apologized to the room, his voice rough from crying.

"You never have to apologize, Aaron," you told him for what must've been the thousandth time, but you would tell him again and again until he believed it.

"Can you…" he trailed off, and you saw his shoulders hunch up around his ears. His frame shuddered, shaking the bed slightly.

"'Can I' what, baby?" You asked him softly, willing him to open up to you. "Can you hold me?"

"Of course, baby." You already moved over until you were spooned against his back. Horizontally and in bed, you never had to worry about the height difference as you were able to press your nose to the back of his neck and hook your arm over his waist.

Hotch did not take your offered hand, instead letting you cup his belly and smooth your palm over it. He was wearing just one of his thin, white T-shirts and his boxers, and you were dressed similarly as well. The rolling around, though, had caused Hotch's shirt to ride up, so your hand was pressed over his bare skin. Rather than shying away from the touch, he seemed to savor it, so you stroked your fingertips over the skin idly. Your lips mouthed words into the top nodule of his spine, mouthing promises of love and comfort that you wished you could say, but weren't sure if you could.

It was a sweet, quiet moment, and again, you were sure that Hotch had fallen asleep. But then you felt him squirm and press himself back against you, his bum flush against your pelvis. You didn't react at first, thinking that Hotch was just settling, but then he did it again and this time it was accompanied with a soft, low whine.

"Tell me what you need, baby," you murmured in his ear, lips brushing against his earlobe as you spoke.

"I just wanna feel good," Hotch admitted to you, allowing himself to be vulnerable under the cover of darkness. He only rarely got like this, often a little too self-loathing to give in to these desires. One night he told you how pathetic he was, how embarrassing it is that he needed this after what he had seen, but you just shushed him and took him in hand.

And you did that now, albeit at a slower pace. Your lips attached themselves to the side of his neck, just above the collar of his white t-shirt. Your hand pushed up the t-shirt more so that you could leisurely tweak his nipples. You knew that this was not a process to rush since he was not even fully hard yet. Besides, it wasn't really the release that he craved so much as it was the care you provided to him. If it was only about the release, he could handle that himself in privacy, but he wanted this from _you_. And you were more than happy to provide.

"Oh," Hotch gasped into the air. He rarely ever got loud. You had to work to get him to make any noises at all. As your lips danced up his jaw and he turned his face towards you for more attention, a steady stream of whimpers started to leak from his lips. "Oh, oh, please."

"Please, what?" Your lips scraped against his stubble. In the morning, your mouth would be puffy and tender, but right now as you were struggling to stay awake, your mouth felt clumsy and stuffed full of cotton with a tongue too thick for your mouth. "Say it, baby. Tell me what you want, tell me what you need."

"Please, please, touch me."

"Touch you? But I am touching you?"

Instead of growling his frustration, Hotch's whine pierced your eardrums. His hand caught yours wear it had been steadily thumbing at his peaked nipples. He used his grip to guide you down to his tented boxers and once your hand grabbed his considerable bulge he immediately let go and grabbed at the blankets instead.

"Oh, you want me to touch you here, baby? Is that it?"

"Mhm," Hotch nodded, careful not to bump his head into your face.

"Okay, baby. I'll touch you here." You slipped your hand inside his boxers and found that he had smeared the front of them with his precome already. "So messy for me, and so, so hard. It must hurt, doesn't it?"

"Y-yesss," Hotch hissed, bucking his hips into your hand. His cock throbbed, and he wouldn't last with more teasing for long.

"Oh, don't worry, baby. I'll help you."

You nipped your teeth on his earlobe and tugged, and Hotch cried out, "Oh, thank you!" and then shoved his knuckles in his mouth in embarrassment.

He felt so hot underneath your touch. Part of you longed to see him like this, to catalogue every grimace of pleasure, the tightening of skin around his eyes, the flex of his muscles, the blanche of his knuckles and the blush on his cheeks and chest. You wrapped your hand around his cock and started tugging away, twisting your wrist with over upward stroke. You didn't bother pushing away his boxers because you wanted to minimize the mess, but this also met you could pull your fist out very far, which was fine by you. He didn't need much to get him there.

"You're gonna come for me, baby." You brushed your nose through his hair, smelling his shampoo mingle with his sweat. "Let go."

Then he did. His knuckles did little stop the deep, guttural groan he gave as he came into your fist. Hotch's body did this odd little contortion thing as he simultaneously pushed his hips forward and threw his shoulders and head backwards against you. From experience, you moved your head out of the way in time to save yourself from a broken nose.

Once Hotch stopped coming, you pulled your messy hand up and held it before his face. You made a show out of spreading your fingers, his come threading between your splayed digits like stubborn cobwebs. Those same fingers were brought to his mouth where Hotch latched on to them greedily. He loved to taste himself, though his preferred method was eating you out after finishing inside of you. This was a close second, though.

By the time he finished, your hand was clean of come, but coated in his saliva. Too tired to care, you wiped your hand on his shirt and then resumed your spooning position as before. "Better?" you checked in with him.

"Mm," Hotch mumbled in a daze, nearly dozing, "Better. Thank you."

"Anytime, baby," you told him, and you meant it.


End file.
